


the words you want to hear

by intothewildblueyonder



Category: The Beatles
Genre: 1990s, Angst, Confessions, Fluff, Love, M/M, McLennon, Over the Years, Sadness, The Beatles - Freeform, you're going to hate me for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 12,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13664115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothewildblueyonder/pseuds/intothewildblueyonder
Summary: In which Paul was the one to leave.In which John, before he dies, wants to tell the truth.In which they loved each other so much, and it ended too soon.





	1. Chapter 1

_It's recording, Mr Lennon._

Good. What time are they expecting you back?

_Oh, not until late. You're a big story, if I may say so. They're happy to give me a few days to sort this out._

Good. We'll need it.

_With all respect, Mr Lennon-_

John. I don't think it's the time or place for formalities, do you?

_All right, John. How...how much time do you think we have?_

Long enough.

_Everyone was surprised you chose to do a last interview._

Why?

_Well-_

You can say it, kid. I'm dying, I should be spending my last days on the things that matter. Everyone's scared to talk about it, aren't they?

_It's strange to talk about death with one of your idols._

Oh, you flatter me. I'm no hero, Mr-

_Samuel. Call me Al._

When I'm dead everyone will mourn, and far too much. Then someone new will come along, and the world will keep on turning.

_How can you say that, after the life you've led? You influenced a generation, you changed the lives of so many-_

Because the life I've led isn't one you should follow. Not unless you want to end up here.

_S-sick?_

Dying. Full of regrets. Alone.

_What do you regret?_

Calm down, tiger. You don't get the scoop that fast, you work for it.

_Sorry, Mr - John._

Better. Getting better all the time.

_Who's visited you so far, how's that?_

George. Ringo. Linda did at the very start, but this...she can't bear this place.

_Understandable, considering..._

Yeah. Considering all that, it's amazing she's still standing. I didn't have the courage she had.

_Does it still hurt?_

What a daft fucking question. It hurts every day.

_Of course._

He's, well, he's the reason for this.

_Go on._

There's...there's something I need to say about him. There's things we never told anyone for, for various reasons and now-

_Mr Lennon, are you..._

I'm fine, fine. Getting sentimental in me old age. I meant...now that he's gone, now that I know what's going to happen to me, it seems like the time.

_For what?_

To tell everyone about Paul. To say-

_John?_

Switch it off, I need a minute.


	2. Chapter 2

_Are you sure you want to go on?_

It's not like we've got time to spare. Come 'ead, ask what you want.

_How do you think the public will react, losing another Beatle?_

Oh, what do YOU think? They'll scream, cry, tell Geo and Rings to wrap themselves up in bubblewrap and keep safe.

_You don't sound very fond of your public._

Never have been, that's my dirty little secret. Hated them all, actually.

_Oh?_

Don't act surprised, Al. Paul was the publicity one, I was the rude bastard. Everyone knew but no one cared.

_Well, your music made it very easy to forgive you anything._

You can say that again. In the early days, we got away with murder. Are, uh, the big bosses all right with explicit details?

_The more drama the better, as far as they're concerned._

I'm not surprised. Not like there's anything left of me to protect.

_You were saying-_

Yes yes yes. We did drugs, smoked, drank, cheated. Some of the things we said and did to the birds - I'd get a slap nowadays if I tried that, at best.

_But your image remained spotless._

Eppy, all that was down to him.

_You refer to Brian Epstein?_

Nah, Eppy the fuckin' Irish milkmaid. See, that's who I was. A sarky Scouse git who didn't give a shit. Not a working class hero, not a genius, not an artist-

_John, you-_

Don't interrupt, lad. It's true, when I was younger I thought I was the best thing on two legs. That I would grow up and everyone would see how incredible I was.

_And now that you're older, do you still feel that way?_

No. Now when I look back on it all, it...it just seems such a waste. There were so many things I never did, and now, well, I never will. No, go on, I'm fine.

_I don't want to contradict you - did you need a tissue? No - but at fifty you're achieved what many won't in a LIFETIME. What could there be left for you to do?_

Ah, that's the million-dollar question.

_Well?_

I lied before. The fans weren't my dirty little secret, there's one even worse.

_May I ask what it is?_

Paul.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_What ABOUT Paul, John?_

It's not so easy to say.

_We could carry on tomorrow, if you like._

No. I...I don't have the luxury of spacing this out, I'm afraid.

_It's that bad?_

That's the funny thing about stage four cancer, it doesn't make allowances for interviews.

_That...that's the final stage._

It's spread - pardon me, metastasised - to most areas of my body. My goose is cooked, so to speak.

_And you really haven't told anyone about this?_

The important people know. My friends, what's left of my family...and the person who can record my last words. All of you up at the office, you're the only ones in the biz to know. I've kept it out of all the other papers.

_So your plan is-_

They'll find out when the rest of the world does.

_They'll be devastated._

And that's why it's a secret. I have things to do, I don't have time to comfort fans and listen to sobbing grannies tell me how much they liked our stuff in '65.

_When you talk about those days, John, you don't sound like you enjoyed them so much._

Yes. It's...it's funny, that. In some ways it was a dream. It was everything we'd worked for. We _should_ have been happy.

_But you weren't._

I was, at times. When we performed, that. That was why we did it instead of becoming teachers or engineers. Because when we played together -

_You blew the roof off._

Something like that. It felt bloody magical. From the very first moment, it seemed like the only future we could ever have.

_But you would've never become a teacher anyway, surely?_

Ha! Too up myself for that. Paul's da wanted him to be one, but I convinced him otherwise. Drove him astray.

_Considering everything that happened, I'm sure he was grateful for that._

He shouldn't have been grateful. I wasn't...a very good friend.

_John?_

I suppose it's time to tell you. Can't dance around it forever.

_Go on._

He wasn't just my friend.

_John._

He was my...he was the man I loved.


	4. Chapter 4

  
_Here._

Thank you.

_You fine to go on?_

There's going to be tears ahead, Al. Can't stop every time I get a bit weepy.

_What were we on, then?_

The famous John Lennon revealed himself as a queer.

_A queer._

A fag. An arse-bandit. A queen. There were many words for it back then, and believe me we were aware of them all.

_John, you may be overreacting - blowing it out of proportion. There is a difference between loving someone in a brotherly fashion and, well-_

And fucking them? What about kissing them? Or imagining a whole future with them, dreaming of a day when you can be together? Does that sound like brotherly affection, Al?

_I'm sorry._

It changes your idea of me, doesn't it? I'm not just John Lennon any more; I'm John Lennon the _queer._

_Times are changing, John. Public opinion of people like...that, like you, is improving._

Aye, and how the hell do you expect that to comfort me? This is now, not fifty-something years ago. It's too late for me, for us.

_So you're saying-_

You want me to repeat it? To confirm that we loved each other, properly?

_Well, yes._

I did. Christ, I loved him so much - don't get up, I'm _fine._

_And he loved you too._

Yes. After how everything's turned out, it might have been better if he didn't.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_When did it start?_

When we met.

_1957\. The Woolton fete._

You've done your research.

_It's still incredible, after all this time. That the chance meeting of two boys changed the world._

We used to say it was meant to be - us, that is. He did, anyway. Right soppy git at times.

_How did you fall in love with him, John?_

Didn't know till it happened, Al. I liked him from the start, y'know. When we met he looked like Elvis-

_John, I know this. I've heard the interviews. You want to tell me the real story, don't you? The story no one else knows?_

Cocky bugger. Give them a pen and a recorder and they think they've got it made.

_..._

You want to know, do you?

_Yes._

We met. We talked, we became friends, all that bullshit. And then a year after the fete, I - I kissed him. We were coming back from a show and I just pushed him against a wall and...boom. Like it was yesterday. 

_What did he do?_

I'd thought he'd try to bash my head in. You weren't gay back then, not if you wanted to survive.

_But._

But he kissed me back.

_And that was the beginning._

The beginning, and the end.


	6. Chapter 6

_How do you remember Paul then?_

Talented. Beautiful. Sad.

_Sad?_

You know about his mum, of course.

_Yes._

He was still hurting from that. I didn't understand it for a while, I thought it was a bit silly. Then I lost mine and...well, I saw it differently. Paul helped me get through that, you see.

_Many people suggest that strengthened your friendship, having shared a similar type of heartbreak._

Well, some people like to make a song and dance of everything. I loved him because he was Paul, not because we could weep over our mums together.

_Because he was Paul?_

Yes.

_Can you give me a little more to work with?_

You can't describe something like that, can you? In songs, sure, but in real life...well. Being with him felt like home, y'know? We just fit together so perfectly.

_You certainly did._

Not just in writing, Al. It felt like we'd known each other before, in a faraway place among the stars. And we were meeting up again.

_Soulmates, you mean?_

Yes. If you'd asked me then, I'd've said that kinda stuff was fer the birds. The kind of thing you say to get your leg over, no one takes it seriously. But Paul...he was something else. 

_Go on._

He was talented. He was kind, so kind. He was forgiving - I'd fuck up over and over again, anyone else would throw me out on me ear but he didn't. He knew I couldn't stand being left.

_Because of your mother?_

Because of her, my uncle, Stu. It seemed that everyone I loved buggered off after a point, and you can imagine it got a bit...well, I felt like it was my fault. That I'd end up being alone.

_John-_

Turns out I was right. I fucked up, didn't I?

_I think you need a break. Should I go?_

Have you got enough for today?

_Oh, more than enough._

Al, can...can you keep this quiet until it's over?

_You don't want me to tell anyone?_

No, not even your boss. Tell him you can only play the tapes when I've told everything, when I'm-

_Gone._

Exactly. Tell him it'll have more impact that way.

_Yeah, he should go for that. Dramatic reveal an' all._

Thanks.

_Same time tomorrow, then?_

Not like I've got anywhere else to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are nice!


	7. Chapter 7

Ah, ze filthy Englander! Guten Morgen!

_I saw that film when it came out. Amazing. People were cheering in the cinema._

We could've sat in a room for an hour and they still would have gone potty.

_You didn't like it?_

I was a musician, not a flipping actor.

_But you had a chance to perform all those songs, surely that counts?_

Mm. _If I Fell_...I wrote that for Paul.

_Really?_

When we were younger and I knew I had to tell him. I was so afraid of how he'd react, that he'd run and hide and all that...well, you know the story. Turns out the song wasn't necessary.

_Because he felt the same way?_

The first domino.

_So by the time of the film he already knew all your worries?_

We'd been...us for six years by then.

_That's quite a while._

Went too fast. I could've had an entire lifetime with him and it wouldn't have been enough.

_And you didn't._

If life was fair, that's what would have happened. Life's a fucking bitch like that.

_Do you sometimes wish you hadn't fallen in love with him?_

That's a hard question to answer, Al.

_Do your best._

Yes and no. If we hadn't met, I...it stings to say it, but I wouldn't have made it out of Liverpool. He, Geo, Rings, they would have all succeeded in some way. And I, the one who was so sure he'd grow up to be famous and loved and all that malarkey, I would have stayed there.

_Why do you say that?_

I would have burned my bridges, Al. I did that. Dropped out of school, got trapped in a marriage, lost most of my friends. You see the pattern here?

_That can't be right, John. You were immensely talented and, if I may say, charismatic. You were the one everyone liked, surely you would have made it._

That's what they all say. They were scared of me, they wanted to be me, they were shocked by me. But none of them would have been there if I fell apart, and I did.

_Go on._

And Paul was there. He kept me going. Without him I'd have pissed everyone off, never gotten a deal. He brought in the charm when needed, I supplied the black humour. We were a good team.

_But that's about your career, John. What about your heart? How would that be impacted if Paul had never been yours?_

I would never have known what heartbreak felt like, then. And he was never mine. I didn't deserve to call him _mine_.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_We're going about this the wrong way, John. Start from the beginning, that way we can keep the story straight._

Oh, very well then, Mr Professional. I was born in merry old England in 1940-

_You know what I mean. Let's start with the basics: what do you think when you saw Paul?_

Cor, better keep an eye out for the parents who've lost their Elvis-toddler.

_Really?_

Were you expecting something romantic? Shooting stars and fireworks?

_There must have been something, John. From the way you tell it you loved him deeply, almost from the very start. You must have been aware of some sort of feeling._

There was something, but I couldn't work it out. Usually if I felt attracted to someone, it's because they were a bit of all right. If you understand me.

_Completely._

Not to say he wasn't handsome, he was. But I'd met thousands of birds that looked fine, they'd be a safer choice and I could have my pick of them any time I chose.

_I'm sure._

Flattery will get you nowhere, lad. He was new, he was fascinating, the way he _looked_ at me...

_Was it love at first sight?_

Are you mocking me?

_Do you believe in a love at first sight?_

Oh, very clever. I'm certain that it DOES happen all the time. But it wasn't love. It was more...I wanted to reach out and...I wanted to pull him away and say _I can tell you're going to be special, you're really something, why don't you come away with me?_ I was a rocker and a terror and had a reputation for being tough, but at that moment I felt like a schoolgirl.

_So it was?_

It was something new. Like your first kiss - it only happens once, and it's never as good again.

_Sounds like a song._

What can I say? He inspired me to write our hits.

_So you met him, he played for you-_

Ooh well I got a girl with a record machine, when it comes to rocking she's the queen - sorry. When I think of that day, it just...comes rushing back.

_You're doing very well._

I can still see him in that jacket. Can still taste the beer in my mouth - we all got drunk, it was crap but cheap, what else could you do. You know how that feels, to be able to remember every single day with a man you'll never see again? Like being trapped.

_In the past?_

In memories of a time that - no, I don't want to get into this. Come on, go back to your questions.

_And you asked him to join your band?_

A little later. I wanted to see if I could stop thinking about him. I couldn't.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CoMmeNts cOmmEnTS CoMMentS

  
_You want to talk about Hamburg now?_

Ah, Hamburg. I miss those days.

_That was really the start, wasn't it?_

Of our music? Definitely. We were something there we'd never been before. It was like all the drugs, the late nights, everything that wasn't home, brought out something new in us. It was a new horizon.

_And you were new people._

You're good at this. We weren't the boys who would get married, have two or three kids, retire with pipes and slippers. We weren't what our parents wanted us to be.

 _I've heard several rumours about the kinds of things you got up to, yes_.

Mm. Not suitable stories for a nice lad like yerself. Drugs, for one.

_Girls, no doubt._

Oh yes. There was a lot of sex in those days. You've no doubt heard about George-

_Yes._

Whores everywhere. A hand job in the alleyway, onto the stage, off at midnight to pull some more girls.

_You were in a relationship with Cynthia at the time, were you not?_

What's that supposed to mean?

_Nothing._

Look, everyone already knows I cheated on Cyn. Paul was cheating on his girl too, believe me. Two separate worlds, that's how it was. Old news.

_But what happened between you and Paul there?_

We got high. We argued. We wrote songs together. There were some nights we'd just scream at each other because the prellies drove you crazy, made you ready to get into a fistfight with anyone. There were cracks in our...whatever it was. It didn't bring the best out in us.

_Was it common for you to fight during this time?_

Sometimes me an' him. He fought with Stu a lot, got pretty creative about it. We'd be playing at three in the morning - sleeping on our feet, of course - and they'd start yelling at each other in the middle of a song. Paul would make some lyric up on the spot, add a line about arty wankers while looking straight at Stu. And Stu was a bit of an arty wanker, no denying, but he wasn't dumb, he knew what Paul was about. So he'd get confrontational and they'd start squaring up, in front of all these sailors and drunks and whatnot, an' the rest of us had to calm them down before we all got kicked out.

_Do you know why Paul disliked Stu so much?_

Stu couldn't play to save his life, but he was in because he was my mate. And old perfectionist Paulie hated that, kept whining about how it ruined our sound. You had to laugh at him: we were still kids, playing all hours of the night, couldn't even speak German - well, I had a bit of a laugh calling them all Nazis for a while-

_Seriously?_

Yeah, but when they got used to our accents they cottoned on to that, and I had to snap it in the bud. They didn't even know what we were singing about; hell, five hours in we didn't know what was what. My point is we were amateurs, but Paul acted like we were playing for her Maj.

_But as you said, Hamburg really did improve your sound._

Absolutely. I mean, this'll sound daft, but it was like...Hamburg was really rock n' roll. It was a city that knew what life was about: anger, love, sin, debauchery, chaos. It's hard to write good stuff when you're living with your aunt in this quiet little place; lace doilies, good families, all that guff. But over there, we really tapped into something. It was like growing up.

_And what about when you came back?_

Oh, that. Well, Paul got sent back first because of the condom thing - which really was a waste, you wanted those when you, ahem, were making friends with the ladies, we all knew where they'd been.

_There will be a limit to what they let me put in, John._

Yes, point taken. None of that. Anyway, Paul's da had gotten him work at a coil-winding factory or something. Old McCartney was like that - didn't think much of me, thought I led his precious boy astray - told him to get proper work or get out.

_No doubt that was quite a come-down._

Cultural shift. Y'see, when we were over in Hamburg we started thinking we could do ANYTHING. We became proper. But then we got back and no one seemed to give a fuck anymore. Just...back to being these lads from Liddypool who had a dream, and everyfuckingbody did. Everyone wanted to be like Elvis. And Paul's da was trying to teach him this, that he needed to get his head out of the clouds and join the real working class .

_So what came next?_

I told him he had to come to the show I organised, or he was out. Really, I was making him choose between me and his dad.

_Rather harsh, don't you think?_

I wanted - no, I needed - him to choose me. I needed to be chosen for once in my life. He knew that, did old Paul.

_Would you say he knew you better than anyone?_

Oh, definitely. No good trying to keep things from Paul. He saw through me in seconds.


	10. Chapter 10

_What happened next?_

We met Brian. Ringo became a proper member. Cyn got pregnant.

_And?_

And we got married. That was what you did.

_Did you love her?_

Watch it, mate.

_I'm not getting at you, John! I'm just asking._

...Maybe at the start. But then I met Paul and everything else sort of...dropped away. At first I was really into it, into her - falling in love for the first time, all that happy-clappy shite. Then she realised there was a kid on the way, and...

_That ended it?_

I didn't want kids, you hafta understand. To me it was kids, marriage, and that got you stuck. You were sort of...hemmed in. Because rockers aren't fathers, are they? Fathers are there, they set good examples. If they play music it's only at family gatherings, or after some sherry. And I was so fucking young, I didn't want the Hamburg days to be my high point, I wanted a life full of moments like that.

_So you weren't very happy about having a child?_

No. Poor little Julian. You got kids, Al?

_A little girl. Here -_

Got yer eyes.

_Her mum's smile._

Here's some parenting advice, free of charge. Don't be the father I was. In fact, don't be the man I was.

_I'm sure you did your best, John._

It's nice to imagine I did, but I didn't.

_Well, you were under a lot of stress, a lot of pressure. At the time you were fronting what was becoming the biggest band in history-_

Excuses, excuses. I was abandoned as a child, so I was jealous and possessive. I lost my ma, so I acted like an arse. I was under a lot of pressure, so I slapped my wife around. They practically spoon-fed me reasons, everyone wanted me to be a tortured soul instead of who I really was.

_You...your wife?_

I saw that face. It's true. I hit her. I yelled at her. Once in a blue moon I'd do something like bring flowers, and that made up for everything.

_Do you regret that?_

Of course. Not Cyn's fault that I was unhappy. That I was in love with my bandmate instead of her.

_If you could go back in time, would you change that?_

If I could go back in time...Christ, do you have all day? I would've stopped my mother going out that day. I would have kissed Paul sooner. I would have ignored the pretty girl in my art class. And I would have stayed with Paul through it all, not pulled away because I was scared. There wouldn't have been Yoko, or _How Do You Sleep_ , and he would have been _safe_. He would've -

_I'm switching it off, all right?_

 


	11. Chapter 11

Back again, I see.

_Wild horses couldn't keep me away._

You enjoy seeing a man cry, is that it?

_No, no! Just, this story is getting me a lot of attention back at the office. If I do a good job of it, they could promote me. I won't have to interview fledging punk bands any more._

No, you'll get to pass the time of day with dying has-been fuck-ups instead. Endless fun!

_John, are you all right?_

They won't give me enough painkillers. Bloody bitch nurses.

_Want me to get one?_

No, no. Let's just crack on.

_Tell me some more about Paul._

We argued about his songs. You know, he'd be writing _my girl, I love her, she loves me_ , over and over again until you lost the will to live. I wanted proper stuff, loud, mad, but he just wanted to bring in the girls.

_Did you argue about your difference in music tastes?_

A bit. Then one day, early on when we were still trying to figure _us_ out, he told me he wrote all those songs for me. Or about me, what I made him feel.

_Really?_

Yep.

_So all the falling in love stuff, the girl unlike any other-_

All for me.

_That's really something._

After that, I could look a little more kindly on shit like _And I Love Her_.

_And it did work. Teenage girls did fall for you and your songs._

Ha! They fell for what we gave them - that we were romantic, perfect. They flocked to see us, to imagine nice little futures with us. We married them, had their cute little children, and treated them to lives of luxury. You should have seen the letters we got.

_Here, give me a bit of filler - what was the maddest thing you got in the mail?_

Ringo received a...well, _something_ a fan had knitted, we couldn't fer the life of us figure out what the hell it was. Either a suit or a very large hat. Wasn't his colour, anyroad. And Paul...he got an engagement ring once.

_Oh?_

Said he'd save it for Asher.

_This would be Jane, his actress girlfriend?_

Girlfriend? She was his cover. If a boy - young, attractive - doesn't have someone on his arm they'll start wondering, we knew that.

_But the others thought it was serious?_

They probably would've gotten married, but we all fucked around. Girls are funny about hearing their boy's been making the rounds on other birds. Gets them all in a lather.

_You really are determined to show the real you, aren't you?_

The honest, the foul, the bastard?

_Well-_

That was the side we weren't allowed to show. Spirited - to a point. Witty - but not too much so. Flirty - but loyal with it. We weren't allowed to be _people_. And people fuck up. Put that down.

_I can't help but be curious - what did he do with the ring? Give it to Linda?_

No one else knew, but he put it on a chain and wore it around his neck. And he said if one day, if we were still together and out of the public eye and it was safe, that'd be the ring he held out as he went down on one knee.

_Oh my God._

I was, what, twenty-four, and we'd been together since we were boys, and after all those years I still loved him. We were still all right.

_That's...wow._

I used to think about that day. Think about it like Christmas. I really thought we could make it. What a fucking dafty.

 


	12. Chapter 12

  
_If you had been together long enough, do you think you would have gotten married_?

Well, you're meant to marry your best friend, ain't you? You're meant to marry the one who makes you smile. Al, you're clearly a married man - what made you realise you wanted that?

_That - that's a hard one. I suppose I just realised one day that she made my life so much better, she made me happy, and that spending the rest of your days with the person you love-_

It's good, is it?

_Wonderful._

I suppose it's like...you know _When I'm Sixty-Four_?

_Paul's song._

I certainly wouldn't write something like that. My idea of getting old was hell; losing your mind, your dignity, your friends. Better I go now, when I can still remember everything.

_But?_

But his song was so optimistic. I could almost see what might have been - minus the grandchildren, unless we got visited by a magical fairy or some shit. Now I can see what he was trying to say - that it doesn't matter if you're old and doddery, as long as you've got someone to love you through all of it.

_A beautiful message._

Yeah.

_We're skipping in time, John. Let's go back a bit._

All right. Paris, I haven't mentioned that yet.

_You went with Paul, didn't you._

Well, yeah. Who else would I 'ave taken? Paris was the place to be. If Hamburg was about the music, Paris was sort of about...art and culture, y'know? Paul was more excited than me, he drove me mad yapping on about the Eiffel Tower and various museums. Made me feel pretty good, that; treating him, seeing him smile.

_It must have been...quite freeing, I can imagine. To be in a place where no one knows you._

We got away with a lot more over there. So many people, we were just two more boys in a crowd. There was one night...I can't believe I can still remember this, we were walking back from somewhere and he took my hand. Back home that, that would have gotten you your head kicked in. If you were lucky. But it was late, there was no one around, and we...just walked back in silence, holding hands. Such a small, stupid thing.

_Such things are what a relationship is built on._

Thank you, Shakespeare, I think I figured that out for meself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al is just a very wise person.


	13. Chapter 13

Don't look so shocked, lad. It was all falling out anyway.

_So you jumped the gun - sorry, poor choice of words-_

No, you're all right. Yes, I took the initiative and shaved it off. Gone is the famous mop-top, hmm? I'm just a baldy Beatle now, a skinhead.

_You're getting closer._

Further down the line. Good I've got you, then. B'fore these famous thoughts and deeds are lost to the sands of time.

_So, new day, let's move on. Gotten back from Paris, go to 1963. Your first album._

Ah yes. Well, long story short, Eppy took a bit of a liking to us. Well, probably Paul the most - he was the looker. You know the rumours, don't you?

_That Mr Epstein was queer? Yes._

Well, so did all of us, and it showed. I treated him like hell, to be frank. Made all sorts of jokes, like you could call them that, and the poor bastard took it because...because I suppose he thought it was worth it. He gave us our shot, he took the gamble, and how was he repaid?

_Er-_

I'll tell you how - by dying young. By being one of _those_ , by never being able to love like he wanted. He died being the fifth Beatle, how's that for fairness?

_John._

I'm fine. We all loved him, us boys, in our own stupid way. For the first couple of years it was like a family.

_I'm sure._

Never had one of those before. So of course, the first thing I did when I got one, I fucked it up to kingdom come.

_I wouldn't say that._

You weren't there, were you? Sorry, sorry. Back to...?

_The album, if you'd like._

Well, that was all thanks to Brian, of course. We recorded it all in a day, you must know that. Everyone was impressed, really, because when we walked in we would have been mucking around, joking, wearing some of our leather gear. I bet the technicians thought, _oh here's some more schoolboys who think they've got what it takes, lovely, we really needed more of these brats_. Probably thought we wouldn't make it.

_And it turns out you did._

Mm. Yay us. So that was released, we kept playing the shows, and then slowly...we started becoming more of a thing. Not just playing in clubs and pubs, doesn't count because most of the people there're too soused to tell Beethoven or Berry from a donkey, but proper shows!

_I remember going to one, I think it was on the Shapiro tour-_

Ah, old Helen. The other two tried to pull her, y'know, but she didn't play ball. Great voice, though.

_Oh, definitely. And you, you and Paul sang Please Please Me, and it... just sounded incredible. I was something like thirteen then, but I went home wanting to be a rock star._

Ah, the bad influence we were on kids everywhere! Parents tore their hair out, I bet, knowing that their Jimmies and Joeys wanted to play the guitar instead of work a steady job.

 _I suppose we all thought that, since you made it_ _-_

Aye, but not overnight. Struggle. Rejection. All the other bollocks that tries to keep you down. And at a price, too.

_A price?_

Not just all the problems we had with the contracts and companies. But what it did to our friendship over time. Sometimes, I think that if Paul and me...if we hadn't been the Beatles, we might've stayed together. We could be married by now, living happily ever after.

_I guess we'll never know what might have been._

That's what kills me, every time.

 


	14. Chapter 14

After that, it was a bit of a whirl. More songs, shows, albums. We started growing up, it had to happen at some point. Bob Dylan came along and he really pushed the envelope, so Rubber Soul had a bit of his influence. Everyone had a field day, the Merseyside darlings becoming men.

_Well, it was quite hard to stay afloat in the pop scene in those days. Or so I've heard._

Nail on the head, Al. There'd be new groups parading along every five seconds; some of the _names_ , the Spinners, the Hearts, Tommy and the _Tits_ for all I know, all trying to be catchy. Spitting out all the odd sha-la-la stuff, the cuter the better. Girls were screaming for people other than us.

_Hard to imagine._

Impossible. We had a few years at the top-

_The toppermost of the poppermost?_

If that ever existed. It was just an idea, some sort of heavenly plateau where the greats larked around, looking down on us. Berry, Holly, Elvis of course. As kids, we thought joining them would be the greatest kick of all.

_But it wasn't?_

I think the top is all very well for a bit, but you wouldn't want to live there. Looking back on it I see that, but we were still wrapped up in it, our dream, enough to cling on with our guitar-callused fingertips. So we made a few more albums.

_What about Help?_

Bloody _hell_. Yes, for the record we did that other film, the barmy one. Ringo gets us all into trouble, again. We didn't even know what we were doing half the time, but there was a lot of weed being smoked - begging your pardon - so it was hard to care.

_That's all you remember about '65?_

Wasn't our biggest year. Now 1966, that was...eventful is one word for it.

_Ah, the famous last tour._

What a shambles that was. What a nightmare. I'm telling you, Al, man to man, never say anything about Jesus to _anyone_. It's impossible to get away from it unscathed.

_Your bigger than Jesus controversy, I assume?_

I've 'ad so many I can't keep track.

_Were you upset by the reception from your American followers?_

Definitely. We got off the airplane, first thing we see is BEATLES: GO HOME. Hard not to take that personally. Usually they'd be leaping up and down, waving banners, all that shit. But this time there were albums being burnt - Paul nearly cried at that, such a soft arse, he hated music being disrespected in any way. You could club him over the head with a guitar, split his skull wide open and he wouldn't even notice, he'd be too busy whining about the damage done to such a beautiful instrument.

_John?_

Sometimes when I think of something like that...it's like he's still around. Still doing things for me to laugh at.

_I'm sorry._

Carry on, son, before I start weeping all over you.

_Did you ever fear for your lives over there?_

There was...one time before we went onto the stage, George said, "Look after Pattie," just like he would if he was going off to war. This was after Memphis - the firecracker, that really gave us a start - he thought there was a chance he might...well.

_That he might be shot?_

I think we all worried about that, in some way. Ringo didn't say anything about it, he just got pissed when we got off, that kind of said it all. Paul butchered a few of our songs, but no one bloody noticed. And me...well, I had in the back of my mind that if anyone did try I'd dive in front of him - like they do in the films, I suppose. I really would have died for him.

_No doubt._

But I never got the chance to save him, did I? All my good intentions...what the hell did they do?


	15. Chapter 15

And then there was Sgt Peppers.

_A landmark in music history._

Yes, all that guff. The most important record of the 20th century, they said.

_You don't seem to think of that very fondly either._

Oh, I do. It was a good album and it was new but it didn't have so much of  _us_. We weren't playing together; there'd be one song, a few minutes where we'd be together and so in tune, and then we'd have to sit around for hours while it was edited and tampered with and...urghhh.

_Still a beautiful album._

Yeah, definitely. It was really Paul's, you see. He was the one leading the charge, the movement into new music. I just sort of sat back and worked on my pieces. 

_For once._

Made me feel a bit weird, everyone seeing Paul as the creative one. For years they'd all been thinking I was the genius, Paul just the pretty boy we kept around for the girls - not right, but, you know.   

_Mmm-hmm._

He did the love songs, I was the revolutionary. Then in he comes with all these incredible pieces, like a herald of the new age. Gets up your nose, just a little.

_Still...a fantastic piece of work._

If you say so. And that...that was the year we lost Bri. When he went up to those big ol' pearly gates in the sky.

_You think of him like that?_

Not really. But you have to think of them going somewhere, don't you? I don't know where to stand on religion, but existing one day and then being nothing the next...it's a bit of a let-down, isn't it? No, he'd be happier prancing around, trying to manage a band of angels, chatting up St Peter. All that shit.

_Do you think of Paul up there with him?_

I prefer not to think of Paul being dead at all. Easier that way.

_Want to move on?_

1967\. Big year. That last film, fucking mad idea. I loved Paul, I still do, but the man could not direct to save his life. And the _script,_ or should I say _circle_...try that again, and we'd be laughed out of town.

_How were...you and Paul at this time?_

Coming apart. After Bri, we didn't know what to do with ourselves. Paul took it all on himself, that created a strain in the group. He always thought his way was right, and I thought mine was, Ringo would go along with whatever, and George just wanted to fiddle-faddle around on that sitar of his. You can imagine what it was like.

_Were you still-_

On the side. Wasn't like it had been. But if I had it again...god, what would I have said. I would've begged him not to leave me.

_How were you and Cyn?_

There was nothing left of us. I'd grown up a little...well, by my standards anyway. Only having five affairs at any given time, what an improvement.

_..._

Poor Jules, having to grow up with that.

_He'd visit the film set at times, wouldn't he?_

Well, it was like a party for him, innit? Seeing Daddy run around in a big wizard outfit, throwing spaghetti everywhere. And Paul, he was over the moon when that happened. He liked children. Always wanted to have a big family one day. A family where the parents didn't disappear and leave the weight of the world on your shoulders.

_He said that?_

He didn't have to. I had the measure of Paul.

_Well, he did get the family in the end._

But not enough time with them. Cruel trick, eh?


	16. Chapter 16

_You alright?_

Tired.

_It's not that late._

The stuff they've got me on. Makes you woozy.

_One last question, yes? Then I'll bugger off._

Good lad. They've trained you well.

_India._

What of it?

_Your trip there._

Ah, that. George's idea, he was balls-deep into all the meditation and inner wellness stuff by then. The rest of us sort of went with it.

_Was George the only one who enjoyed it, then?_

He was the most committed. He really wanted to do it, y'see, he liked the peace and quiet. Me, well, in a way I just wanted someone to give me an answer. For things to start making sense. But that can't happen so easily, of course, so I got pretty down-hearted about the whole thing.

_Do you feel the retreat improved your music any?_

We did knock out some good tunes over there. Even Ringo wrote a song, that was nice. The whole of the White album, that was really thanks to that finding your inner aardvark bullshit, or whatever he was about.

_I see you tuned out quite a bit to what he taught you, then._

Aye, what clued you in? But it kept George out of our hair fer a bit, that was good.

_And._

And what?

 _There's something else. You're not telling me the whole story_.

Fine.

_Go on._

Things between Paul and I...that's when we ended, really. Or maybe we'd been coming apart for years, and the curtain was finally lifted from our eyes.

_So in a way, India did improve the all-seeing eye?_

Poor joke, lad.

_Sorry. Continue._

Well, you know, in 1967 - I think - they formally declared gay relationships okay. I mean, it was properly legal, as long as you kept it in the bedroom.

_I can imagine that wasn't taken to so well._

Oh yes. It was getting a lot of anger - mostly from men who'd never had a dick up their arse and didn't know how good it felt, I know, keep it safe for the kids - but it was still legal for once. Not marrying, but it was enough. And if we'd waited long enough, the marriage thing would've been fine too, I'm sure.

_So you brought it up with Paul?_

When I could lure him away from that girl of his. He'd already heard, but he hadn't said anything.

_What did you say?_

I dragged him off one day, everyone was used to that. That was how we were. Closer than two men should've been, really.

_Do you think anyone else ever suspected?_

If they did, I've never heard. And then, well, I didn't care whether they thought we were shagging or singing, I just needed to tell him. We went into one of the huts, we...you know. Fucked. Nice doing in those floaty shirts and pants we wore, I have to say. Easier to speed the whole act up - all right, all right, allow a dying man a few dirty memories. When that was over, I...

_We can end it here, if you want._

I'll never say it if we do. I told him.

_What?_

That I was still willing. I was, you know. If he'd given me the right word I would've carried him out of there, straight back to England, and told everyone. I said that...that it was time to stop bein' afraid and that we could be together. Just like we'd always wanted.

_You would have left Cyn?_

In a heartbeat, and I don't care if that makes me a bad person.

_Not bad. Just in love._

You got it, son.

_But Paul said-_

No. He trotted out the old excuses: think what it'll do to the band, Jules'll be devastated, Geo and Rings will get flack too, it's still too soon, I'm a coward, I don't love you any more, I never did, it was all one big fucking GAME-

_John!_

WHAT?

Calm down, you'll get the nurses in here.

No, can't upset the nurses.

_Tissue?_

Ta.

_Ready to go on?_

Godamn fucking Paul. Tell me, Al, why do we give people permission to break our hearts?

_S'better than the alternative._

Being alone?

_Yup._

Just my luck to get both.

 


	17. Chapter 17

_Christ, John._

Morning to you too, lad.

_You look awful._

Pot calling the kettle, you're no bloody oil painting.

_What's happened?_

More drugs. Never thought I'd say this, but I'm tired of them. Not like snorting or smoking something fun, it seems.

_You need anything?_

Can you go to the nurse and ask for the record player?

_Record player?_

I got it delivered, she - the blonde one, looks a bit like a cut-price Bardot - agreed to look after it. And get the box of records too. Please?

_You want me to leave this?_

Go ahead.

...

Fuck. Can you all hear me in the back? Okay, well, Al you won't hear this until you get home and start writing up your piece. Hi, Al! Nice shirt, by the way. Just - god, I'm going to puke, no that's not what I wanted to say - thanks. In case I never say it to your face.

...

This hasn't been easy for me, so...yeah. Cheers.

_I've got it._

Good man.

_This is a lovely one._

Nothing but the best, they said. I'm John Lennon, I deserve special treatment.

_Of course. What do you want to listen to?_

Put on that one.

_Come Go with Me? Because of-_

P-Paul. My Paul.

_Yeah._

Only we went down to the penitentiary, I'm sure you've heard. He used to love t'trot that story out at parties. When he could bear to be associated with me.

_John-_

No, shh. Listen. _I need you darling, so come go with me_...they don't write 'em like that any more.

_What else do you - may I?_

Sure.

_Elvis, Buddy Holly, you._

I...I want to go listening to us, when we were young and beautiful and whole.

_Which song?_

All of them, but when it's really close first it'll be _In My Life._

_It's a beautiful, beautiful song._

That's probably the one I'm proudest of. An ode to a long, sad life, full of people I loved. You can't say fairer than that, can you?

_No, I suppose not._

And then I'll put Paul on. Something soft and sappy, the way he liked it. And I'll let my old friend sing me home.


	18. Chapter 18

_So, John._

Oh dear, that's not a good tone. Am I going down, Your Honour?

_It's reached the time of the interview where I have to ask about-_

No.

_But-_

Not Paul. Not...what happened to him.

_You're going to have to talk about it at some point._

One more day. Ask me about something else, whatever you like. The weather, music, how many times I've had it off in the last year, anything but _that_.

_Fine. Yoko Ono._

Right.

_What's she up to these days?_

No clue. Probably floating around, looking into the void and making bread.

_Bread?_

My attempt to be a house-husband. All day long in the kitchen, knead the dough, over and over until I wanted to stick my head in the oven.

_..._

It didn't even taste good.

_Were you happy with her?_

Yes. It was a confusing period, but I was starting to settle. Before _it_ happened, I was thinking that I could...y'know, do that for the rest of my life. That I had finally earned my stripes, ready to be a husband and father and general man of peace.

_But then._

Paul had to go and turn it upside-down, the fucker. He loved disrupting my world.

_He didn't approve of you two, did he?_

No one did, not even my fans. They thought we were mad. Said I was losing it, out of my mind. You know that song - _the newspaper's said she's gone to his head-_

_They look just like two gurus in drag, yes!_

Not popular in the studio, believe me. And she did go to my head. It...it felt so good to meet someone whom I could love.

_Love..._

Not like I loved Paul, there's never been anything to touch that. But imagine a future with, a life together. And it was different because I could _be_ with her. We walked down the street together and maybe people would stare or roll their eyes, but compared to what I'd've gotten with Paul...

_It was freedom. A love that you didn't have to hide._

Exactly. And so, I went a little mad with it.

_Did you love her?_

Yes, I loved her. I thought she was my soulmate. If Paul hadn't...oh Christ, if he hadn't died, I might still be with her.

_Good thing you got out while you could?_

I take it you're not a member of her fan-club.

_Well, a lot of people blame her for the band coming to an end. I suppose I can't see past that._

Funny, really...there are thousands of things I could blame her for, but the band isn't one of them. That was all down to us.


	19. Chapter 19

_Do you want to tell me about that?_

Had to happen at some point. George was really changing, he wanted more sitar stuff. Paul was still writing for his granny fan club, that drove me mad. Ringo walking out...no one saw that coming.

_But you, well, struggled - sorry - on._

We had to. It was the music, that was who we were. We were falling apart and the music should've held us together. Without that, we were just four ageing men in a room, coming to blows, avoiding the rough areas, trying to make it work.

_But it couldn't._

We'd outgrown the Beatles. That's the awful fact of it. For a few years, we were at the very top, a beautiful thing that never came again. And we tore it down from the inside out.

_Nothing can last, John._

You think I don't know that? I've lost so many fucking things, that was just -

_Does it still hurt to think about?_

Yes, but it's not losing the music that hurts. It's what the split did to us, George-Ringo-John-Paul. Not the fab foursome, teen dream of girls the world over, but us as a family.

_You saw yourselves as a family?_

Of course. Back in '63 I would have considered them my brothers. I loved them all, they were the ones that went on the big wild adventure with me. We've mended bridges since Paul, but it'll never be like it was. Too late now, when there'll soon be two instead of four.

_They've visited, haven't they?_

Every day. They know about you, but don't try getting an interview. They're both...well, you can imagine they're not taking it so well.

_No, I can understand that._

I just ...well, I hope those bastards stick around for a while longer. If they go too...

_I think that would have the country up in arms._

Mm.

_Do they know about Paul, about what you did?_

They probably guessed. George used to make some smart-arse comments about how close we were, but he was easy to shut up. And Starkey, you could have an orgy right in front of him and he wouldn't have batted an eyelid. Good lad, hard to shake.

_Did you ever think anyone else suspected?_

If they did, they didn't say. But I, I have a feeling not everyone will be surprised by your article. There'll be technicians, mixers, other musicians who'll pick it up, snap their fingers and say, "I knew there was something between those bastards!"

_You think so?_

We weren't always so careful. A lot of it - fuck, so much of it, it was amazing seeing how far we could push things - was put down to our _bond_. Our amazing _partnership_. Friends stare at each other for hours and flirt all the time, it seems.

_They do if they're heading up the most influential band in history._

Stop, sire, you make me blush. I _know_ where talk like that leads to. Don't you think of taking advantage of an innocent lass like me!

_I see why they kept you around._

Entertainment factor. Cancels out all the other shit.

_Better to laugh than to cry, I say._

Wise...oh fuck, is that the nurse again?

_Yes._

Go away for ten minutes, all right? Read one of the magazines in the waiting room. Steal some morphine pills for your troubles.

_Back in ten. Do stay alive until then._

Not going that easily, thank you.


	20. Chapter 20

Yoko came to the studio with me. George left too. We were all getting sick of each other. Trying to turn bullshit into magic.

_You don't think there's anything good on your last two albums? Nothing at all?_

There was a Paul song - _Two of Us_. That was about me, about me an' him. I'm sure of it. Nice to have a nice song, after we'd just spent all that time slagging each other off in our work.

_And of course, an example of that is-_

How do you sleep, you cunt?

_And you did that because of Paul's solo album?_

He was getting at me on that, I know he was. Fucking beetles, what else could that mean? Ringo tried to stop me. _That's enough, John._ It wasn't, you know. George chipped in, he was pretty damn pissed at McCartney.

_Wait, John, we're jumping around in time. Haven't even mentioned Linda yet._

Oh, more talking?

_You're tired, aren't you?_

Always am, these days. One of the signs.

_Shall we finish up?_

Yeah.

_Tomorrow, John. Do you think you can handle it?_

No, but what choice do I have?

_Good man._


	21. Chapter 21

You can say it. I look a fright.

_You look like they've given up on you._

No, still trying to keep me alive. Pumping the patient full of blood and vitamins and all that twaddle.

_How long will it be before they stop?_

At the end. Keep the inquisition short, all right? I don't have the stamina for a long chat today.

_Paul, John. He's my question. It's time to tell._

It's been ten years, Al. Ten long, lonely years. And it still feels like yesterday.

_What did you do when you heard?_

Really? Right into it, no foreplay, just _in I go madam?_

_The sooner it's over, John._

Linda called me. I...I went off on her. Called her a Yankee bitch, a cunt, liar, whore, every ugly word I could think of so she didn't have room to speak. So she couldn't tell me he was. Hurt. God, I did not want to think about that.

_Take as much time as you need._

Ta, mate. I thought she was trying to get back at me for how I'd treated her precious Paulie. Or that she was jealous because he loved me more and she knew that - oh _fuck._

_Ssh, there there._

I can't do this, Al. It hurts so _bloody_ much.

_You've made it all this time without Paul, haven't you? You can make it another five minutes._

Oh, fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

_If it makes you feel better._

Ask me, then.

_What about when you heard the news reports?_

I was walking - no, running - to a phone booth, I, I'd smashed my own, and I was going past a store when I heard it. Paul McCartney has been shot. A sentence I hoped I would never have to hear.

_Go on._

Right there, on the street. It had really happened.

_Did you call Linda back?_

I had to know where to go, didn't I? To make sure he was okay, in a good room, order some people around if need be. Bring a basket of grapes or whatever to make him smile.

_You thought-_

That he was going to be fine. Right as rain. It just said _shot_ , it didn't say killed.

_And Linda told you that he was...gone._

...

_John?_

When I got there, I kept insisting they take me to see him. And then I...don't remember so much after that. Apparently, I was quite hysterical. They probably gave me something to calm me down.

_Right._

Can't have some loon running all over the place, asking where they've hid his Paul. Lowers the tone. 

_And so, that-_

That was that, yes. The end of Paul McCartney.

_God-_

Stole from me the man who had changed my life. Thanks, O Lord. Or should I say, thanks fucking Chapman.

_You're still in the dark as to why he killed Paul, correct?_

A lunatic. That's all. Paul always did like the fans, hung around signing pieces of flimflam for them. Chapman took the easy target.

_1976\. That was the last time you met up._

Watching Saturday Night Live. Talking over the thought of a reunion.

_Yeah._

So fucking normal. If I'd known it would be the last time - shit, it doesn't bear thinking about.

_No, I can imagine._

He died before I could reach him, Al. In minutes, in a hospital, with his own fucking song on the radio.

_All My Loving, wasn't it?_

A damn good piece of work. A boy goes on a trip, and promises to be loyal to his love back home. Appropriate for the occasion, huh?

_John-_

Wish the bastard would write home, at least.

_I don't know what to say._

Don't give me pity, I beg you. I don't deserve it.

_You loved him, John. You deserve it as much as anyone._

Anyone? No, his _wife_ deserves it, she was the one who stuck by him, picked him up after the end of us. His children deserve pity, for losing their daddy. George, his oldest friend...Ringo, who'd never had a harsh word to say against him, they deserve it. What did I do?

_It sounds like you were, well, the love of his life._

Maybe.

_..._

Do you think he still...loved me?

_I don't know, John. I don't have the answers._

Just a minute. Just one fucking minute to say _goodbye, sorry, I love you, don't leave, you were my everything_. Things I didn't say enough of, and it was too late.

_Now you've got me going!_

Made a journo cry, that's an achievement.

 _We're not all heartless bastards. There are stories that pull us apart like any human being, and this, this is one of them_.

A minute, Al. Was that too much to ask for?

_I'm so sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, I guess?


	22. Chapter 22

_And so-_

And so he left me. The one person I could count on just...up and left.

_You'll start me off again._

We're just two weepy saps, aren't we?

_Yeah. Do...do you have anything to say about his funeral?_

I never thought I'd have to do that. I...I'd lost so many people, I figured I'd get a break for a few years.

_Bloody hell._

Correct.

_And then..._

I did what I always do. I fell apart. Just seeing him in that casket, smelling those flowers...I can still smell it, just barely, the fucking _stench_ of them.

_Don't, John - don't put yourself through this again._

I thought that's what you wanted.

_A story, not a year-by-year torture._

And who would say you're all money-grubbing scum.

_What did you do?_

Left Yoko and Sean, like fucking always. Ringo let me stay with him, and we were sad together. George came around a few times, at first that was fine. But then one time he told me Paul had passed onto a good place, was at peace, and why didn't we all try _meditating_ , that solves everything.

_And you broke his nose._

At _peace_. He wasn't meant to be floating around in the great beyond or what-fucking-ever, he was meant to be playing his shit in sold-out concert halls and meeting up with me and looking after his brood.

_George put his foot in it, I see._

Yeah. Your lot had a field day over that, they said I was losing it. Old Hare Krishna didn't talk to me for a week. Then I guess he found forgiveness inside himself, and we got drunk together.

_Heh. Good._

Guess we wanted to look after the friends we had left. Ahhh...

_Tired?_

Make it fast, yeah? Last questions.

_All right, quickly: what have you been doing these past years, John?_

Wandering. I found a place off Broadway - still fucking rich, you know, even after buying enough drugs to kill an elephant - and I've been there ever since.

_Your last release was back in '84, wasn't it?_

Old songs. Ones I never thought were good enough for perfect Paulie, writing our next hits in his sleep. It took a long time to make them better; George gave some help, so did Rings.

_Critics...didn't take to it very well, did they?_

That's sugarcoating it, mate. Mawkish, sloppy, all that shit. They were right, but my mawkishness at least paid the rent. And I think he would've liked it. Music was his first love, even before me; he would have considered it the best damn tribute possible for a man.

_Where did the name come from?_

_It's Only Me?_ Oh, something I used to say to Paul when I was being a real prat. So, y'know, every five seconds.

_Do you still play?_

Not now, obviously. Hands shake too much. But yeah, up till I was in here, I'd play most nights. And write some.

_Unreleased John Lennon songs?_

Good luck to whoever gets them, when I'm gone they'll be worth-

_Millions. Especially since no one knows._

Yeah.

_Did you ever meet up with your wife-_

Don't call her that.

_Sorry - Yoko - again?_

When I went back to get my things. She suggested we try and scream the sadness out, of all the bullshit.

_Did you break her nose too?_

That's no way to treat a lady, Al, I'm amazed you ever got a wife.

_Sorry, sorry. What did you do?_

I politely suggested she get out of my sight before I forgot to _give peace a chance_. She got the message.

_You regret that, don't you?_

I always go back to violence. It's the Liverpool bastard in me.

_..._

I got my records, money, boxes of all the Beatles stuff. Said goodbye to Sean. Gave her back my ring, and walked out.

_Just like that?_

I wasn't really thinking straight at the time.

_Of course not._

I've seen Sean a few times since then. Last time...a year ago, maybe...didn't even look like my boy. She has a new man, I think. Poor bugger.

_Did you talk to Linda about it?_

If by talked you mean yelled, then yes. Far too much.

_You were angry at her?_

It was that or be angry at myself. I blamed her.

_How? Why?_

I don't know. I had to blame someone. Chapman was locked up where I couldn't carry out my own version of justice, Ringo and George were already down, kicking them did no good. She was an easy target.

_I can't imagine she reacted to that well._

You have no idea, mate. She didn't take my shit, not for a second. I could start yelling and she'd yell back, red in the face, she wouldn't try and calm me down or start weeping. What a woman. I could almost see why Paul had married her.

_Poor Linda._

Yeah. One thing she said...something like _you think you're the only one who's hurting, but you caused him so much pain, he still loved you and what the hell did you give him?_

_Wow._

Yup.

_She didn't hold back._

No. So I yelled some more at her: _what did I GIVE him, I got him out of Liverpool and into the spotlight_ , blah blah, rhubarb. And do you know what she said?

_What?_

She said: _no, he got you out. You did it together, that's what made you special, and you both threw it away. And I hope you're sorry, because I know he was_. Then she sort of flopped into a chair and began to cry her eyes out.

_Christ._

I sat down, told her I was sorry. And she leaned against me, told me I was a bastard, and we cried together. And after that, it was a little better.

_D'you think she's still angry at you?_

I'M still angry at me.

_You shouldn't be._

Why not?

_You weren't the one to shoot him._

There are other ways you can hurt someone. Hurt you can't see on the skin, hurt that goes somewhere deeper. And I was an expert at that. _How Do You Sleep_ , yelling, telling him his stuff was shit, muzak to my ears...bloody hell.

_It's not good to dwell on that, John. Could drive you crazy._

Already there, lad.

_So-_

That's it. That's all I can say.

_Sure?_

You don't want all the details; the crying, drugs, playing our records at three in the morning, wine bottles under the bed - I thought I'd gotten too old for that, that was the shit I did after Julia, you'd think I'd've grown up - it'll just depress you.

_No, I can get that._

So it was pain and sadness for a while, and then there were glimmers of light, and since then it's been a slow upward climb. Trying to be happy, sometimes succeeding. Trying not to forget.

_That was life?_

That was life. Until-

_Go on._

Until two years ago, when my doctor asked me to stay behind.

_I can see where this is going._

My results weren't very good, he told me.

_And that-_

That leads us up to here.


	23. Chapter 23

_Cancer._

On the money, Al. They said I had a tumour, it was malignant, and that I should book myself in for treatment.

_And-_

And I did that. Went in, got zapped full of chemicals, went home and threw up, repeat. Early this year I went in again and he told me it had...it was still spreading. That I would need an operation, soon as possible.

_So you did that, but...what went wrong, was it too late for-_

I didn't.

_What?_

I went home and hid there for a month. Avoided all calls.

_You didn't..._

I don't think it would've stopped it, lad. Sometimes the body just fucks up too fast.

_Were you TRYING to kill yourself?_

If I'd wanted that, it would have happened. Believe me, there is no force that could have kept me here if I'd really wanted to leave.

_So why? Why deny yourself treatment?_

I think I had a feeling it wouldn't work. I was tired of hospitals, treatments, feeling old and near death. And when I did go back in he took one look and that's it, my goose was cooked.

_Jesus._

No, I don't think he had anything to do with it.

_How can you be so calm? If it was me I'd-_

Because I'm not you, Al. There's no wife and cute as a button kid to mourn me.

_What about your friends, your fans?_

What about them?

_I don't understand it._

You don't have to. Long story short, I came in here a month ago. I won't be walking out again.


	24. Chapter 24

_We don't have much in here about Yoko. Or Linda._

Is that necessary?

_Just a few sentences, cover all the bases. I'll rearrange it all in the piece so there's a clearer timeline._

Whatever you say, boss. I married Yoko a few days after Paul and Linda got hitched. He was finally married, he was gone. I sort of had this idea that he'd wait, until...

_Go on._

I thought that one day, I wouldn't be angry with him any more. That ten years down the track we'd finally work things out, come together, and everything would be how it was.

_So the news that he was getting married-_

Felt like the end of us. The real end, not just another argument, not just another thing that could be smoothed over. For once, I couldn't see any way that things could be worked out.

_And you married Yoko._

I might have done that anyway...I don't know. Not exactly the marrying type, if you haven't guessed.

_Do you think Paul and Linda were happy together?_

I think he loved her like he had loved me. You can't go any higher that that.

_Here, there's someone at the door._

Are they carrying a tray of needles and shit?

_Yes._

Go away, they've come to fix me up.

_Back in five. You know anywhere I could get a drink?_

Stiff? That would be lovely right now. Well, the coffee machine on the second floor still works.

_Cheers, John._

 


	25. Chapter 25

_John? Are you awake?_

What...what d'ye want?

_The nurse said they gave you something, that you'd be pretty out of it._

Ugh, the blonde one?

_You don't like her?_

If we were the last people on this planet I wouldn't...ohhh.

_All right?_

God, I'm gonna - hand me that bowl.

_You need me to hold your hair back?_

Oh fuck off, I miss me flowing locks. Jesus, I hate that.

_Has that just started?_

Yeah. You throw up a lot close to the end. You also piss yerself, so they say. Fun, isn't it?

_How long do you have left?_

Days. What else do you need to know?

_Nothing, really. Anything else you want to say?_

Yes, actually. Hand me that - yes, good - this is John Lennon, and for the record: hospitals do not give cancer patients enough fucking pain relief. Fuck you very much, and good night.

_Wow - careful, don't drop it, it's on loan. That'll make headlines._

'M not up to it, lad. The talking's over. The thing they gave me, I feel...oh, shit.

_I'll leave._

No, stay. I don't want to be alone.

_Do you want me to call one of your friends?_

Geo's coming later. Please...stay.

_Okay._

Good...good man. Mmmm.

_John?_

...

_Are you asleep?_

She's gone.

_Who?_

They all do, in the end.

_John, are you-_

Will you be coming back?

_I'll hand in my story tonight, if that's all right._

I've said all I need to.

_And if they want more I'll come back._

Greedy bastards.

_Is there anything else left? Any words running through your head you want to get out?_

Words? No, more like pictures. Like my life's flashing before my eyes.

_..._

It's all Paul. Bit tragic, innit?

_I wouldn't say that._

We're kissing at the top of the Eiffel Tower, kings of the whole world. He's calming me down before we go on stage. Competing over who could write our next chart-topper. _It's coming up like a flower_ , wish he'd saved that one for me.

_It is a great song._

I climbed up to his window one night and serenaded him. Old man McCartney caught me - gosh, the ear-bashing we got. I used to hold him every night, he was so warm in my arms, I never thought one day he wouldn't be there any more.

_I'm sorry._

It's all...it keeps playing over and over in me head. Years of it. And when I'm gone, it'll go with me.

_Doesn't seem right, does it?_

That an entire history can so quickly disappear? No, not really. But that's life. People leave without saying goodbye, things change, you fall out of love.

_Like you said - life's a bitch._


	26. Chapter 26

_Morning, John._

Did you hand it in?

_Sure did. They were over the moon._

Rubbing one out behind their typewriters in editorial ecstasy, I'm sure.

_Well, I couldn't be sure of that. But I do know they're calling this the scoop of the century._

And you're here because...

_They wanted to add some photos. Are...are you up to picking a few out?_

I'm a dying man. Surely I can stand the hurt for a while longer.

_I...I've got some here._

Fuck, I was wrong.

_John-_

He looks so beautiful. He was, you know. All the girls had nothing on him.

_I can pick them, if you like._

No. Here, this. God, did I really wear my hair like that? Ah, the mistakes of youth. I'm sure you had them, Al.

_I, er, thought Elvis was nothing special, how's that?_

You what now? No, sorry, get out. I have my standards.

_Sorry to shatter your world like that._

Oh, I've had worse. That...that one. The way we _look_ at each other, I'd almost forgotten what it was like.

_All right._

And this. I remember this, _Hey Jude_. That was his best song, if I haven't said that already. So let it out and let it in, na na, nananana...

_What about these two?_

Yeah. _This_ is how I remember him, where he's alive and safe. In our songs, in my memories. 

_John?_

Yes?

_Can I just say...sorry, choking up. It, it's been such an honour to interview you._

Oh bloody hell. Lad, I appreciate the sentiment, but if I'm still your idol after all this shit then you've got a screw loose.

_You still are._

After hearing everything I did? What a bastard I was?

_After hearing what you've survived. And how brave you were._

Thank you, Al. I...oh god, I-

_Shh, don't. You don't have to say anything._

Thank you. I hope you make it, lad.

_Any tips for if I do?_

Never forget the words of wisdom from your uncle Johnny: all you need is love. At the end of your life, that'll comfort you like nothing else.

_I know._

It's time.

_Time?_

It's time for me to sleep. And when I wake, they'll be there. Waiting for me.

_John..._

Don't say it's not true, Al. I need something to look forward to.

_I wasn't going to._

I'm so tired. So tired of carrying this with me. I'm ready to leave.

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

_Is this it?_

Yup. You've got your scoop.

_I won't be seeing you again._

No. Thanks for it all, Al.

_I hope you rest in peace._

So do I.

_Goodbye, John. I'm so sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.  
> Ta for reading.   
> Feel free to comment.  
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and support.


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